


Ten Minutes

by Goldy, thirty2flavors



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Drama, F/M, plot?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-11
Updated: 2010-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirty2flavors/pseuds/thirty2flavors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hoping to prove to the Doctor that she can handle herself, Rose strikes out on her own and ends up trapped in a room with a bomb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Title** : Ten Minutes (1/3)  
 **Authors** : [](http://goldy-dollar.livejournal.com/profile)[**goldy_dollar**](http://goldy-dollar.livejournal.com/) and [](http://users.livejournal.com/_thirty2flavors/profile)[**_thirty2flavors**](http://users.livejournal.com/_thirty2flavors/)  
 **Pairing** : Ten II/Rose  
 **Summary** : Hoping to prove to the Doctor that she can handle herself, Rose strikes out on her own and ends up trapped in a room with a bomb.  
 **Rating** : PG  
 **A/N** : Thanks to [](http://shinyopals.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://shinyopals.livejournal.com/)**shinyopals** for the beta.  
 **Excerpt** : _Rose was in the same room as a high-tech alien bomb and five innocent people, and he was stuck in a van waiting for a light to change._

Episode 12 of the [](http://the-altverse.livejournal.com/profile)[**the_altverse**](http://the-altverse.livejournal.com/) following [Dead Reckoning](http://community.livejournal.com/the_altverse/8361.html)  
[Virtual Series Masterlist](http://community.livejournal.com/the_altverse/343.html)

A drop of sweat trickled down the slope of Rose’s nose before sliding off her chin. The day was unusually warm and humid for London, and Rose—who was once again used to dealing with any climate in all of time and space—felt like she had never landed in a more foreign place.

Of course, London didn’t often welcome her back with an alien bomb capable of destroying an entire building—and a row of innocent people chained to the wall about to be taken out with it.

On her headset, the Doctor was shouting in an increasingly louder voice, “Rose? Rose, are you there? Rose, can you hear me? ROSE?”

The rest of her small extraction team exchanged a look. Rose took a deep breath before answering. “I’m here,” she said slowly. “We’ve found it. It’s in the basement of the factory.”

***

The Doctor crouched in the backseat of the van as it sped through the twists and turns of London’s narrow streets. In front, Rose’s former Torchwood colleagues were wearing matching grim expressions. The one in the passenger seat—Don, David, Darien, something that started with “D”—hollered choice phrases through the open window at nearby pedestrians who got in their way.

The Doctor tuned him out as he shouted into his mobile, pressing his hand to his other ear. “Rose? Rose, are you there?” he yelled. “Rose, can you hear me? ROSE?”

There was a long second that felt like an eternity and then her voice answered. “I’m here,” she said steadily, but he could detect a current of fear underneath it. “We’ve found it. It’s in the basement of the factory.”

For a second, the rest of the world faded away into silence as Rose’s words echoed through him. A chill started down his spine and then to the rest of his body. He ducked his head, trying to find some semblance of privacy behind the front seat.

 _Let’s split up_ , she’d said, back at the Torchwood office. _We’ll cover more ground that way._

His first instincts had been to say “no” and to insist they stick together, but then she had _looked_ at him. It had felt like a test. Say “no” and it would just prove to her all over again that he couldn’t trust her to keep herself safe.

Faced with the look in her eyes, he found himself agreeing. After all, they’d thought it was only a hoax—someone playing games with them.

Pete Tyler explained the situation after he called them back to Earth. He’d received an untraceable text on his mobile from an unidentified Bob Charila, warning him that a bomb had been planted somewhere in London. Charila would reveal the approximate time and location of the bomb, but only on the condition that Torchwood called the Doctor and Rose back to Earth.

Pete had no choice but to follow Bob’s instructions. The Doctor and Rose had arrived only seconds after he’d hung up the phone.

The fact that this Bob Charila was keeping tabs on them was worrying, but the _truly_ unnerving part was that he’d somehow _known_ they were back. Was this the man who had been targeting them? The TARDIS had barely been parked for five minutes when Pete had received an updated text, giving him a time and a place for the bomb.

 _Two places_ , the Doctor mentally corrected himself. One for each of them.

The Doctor’s first instinct was to begin investigating the identity of the mysterious Bob, but they’d had no choice but to go after the bombs. He’d chosen to investigate St. Paul’s Cathedral—it was an easy target, right in the heart of London. Hit St. Paul’s and the destruction would be felt through the rest of the country.

Torchwood was already in the process of evacuating when he arrived, but even as he pounded through the Church, he’d somehow _sensed_ he was in the wrong place. It wasn’t in the Cathedral—it wasn’t _his_ target. The bomb was in the East End, in the abandoned factory.

It would hit Rose.

He had jumped into the nearest Torchwood van but even as they sped through London and he dialled Rose’s number with shaking fingers, he had somehow known he wouldn’t get there fast enough.

***

Rose tried to hide how badly her hands were shaking by folding her arms across her chest. Her Torchwood team watched her silently, guns clutched to their chests. The innocent people were bound to the wall with thick chains, driven into the ground with metal spikes at their feet. There were five of them, each one of them with a gag in their mouth. They were sweating and dehydrated, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

There was one girl with long dark hair, maybe eight or nine, who watched Rose with wide, unblinking eyes. The woman next to her had to be her mother—she was crying silent tears, her gaze snapping from the bomb and back to her daughter.

“Rose?” came the Doctor’s voice. “What is it, what did you find?”

“It’s a bomb,” she said. “Just like he said.”

Swallowing hard, she turned away from the people, instead focusing on the bomb. Though she’d had some basic training in disarming bombs when she first joined Torchwood, the bomb itself was like nothing she had ever come across. It was large and curved in the middle like a basin—it was translucent but pulsed green as if ticking down the seconds. There were large spikes protruding from opposite ends and Rose gave the spikes a wide berth, somehow sensing that it would be a good idea to avoid them.

“It’s alien,” she continued, into the phone. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

She could hear the panic in the Doctor’s voice, but all he said was, “Describe it to me.”

She did and he kept eerily silent until she was finished. Then, his voice sounding sharp, he murmured, “That.... that is fearsome technology. That’s _years_ ahead of time. But how did it get here—on Earth?”

Rose really didn’t care about that at the moment. “Doctor, can I stop it?”

There was a moment before he answered. “I hope so.”

“Good ‘cos he left us a timer. We’ve got another ten minutes.”

There was a stunned silence on the other side of the phone, but then the Doctor said, his voice now rising, “Rose, get out. Get out right now.”

His voice was so loud that some of her team turned to look at her with pale faces. Jeremy, the youngest on the mission, was sweating so hard that he was having trouble holding onto his gun.

Rose kept her voice steady. “Can’t,” she said. She almost smiled. “He left behind five innocent people, Doctor. I’m not leaving. Not until they’re safe.”

There was a pause and then he said, now sounding desperate, “I’m on my way—I can disarm the bomb and get them out, but Rose, _please_ , you have to—”

She felt her resolve weakening at the desperation in his voice. A part of her wanted to tell him that she would do as he asked—and save him the heartbreak of being so far away when she was in danger. But a larger part of her felt a surge of defiance. She had a chance to finally prove to him once and for all that she could look out for herself and that he couldn’t always be there to swoop in and rescue her.

“Doctor,” she said softly. He heard the warning in her voice and went so silent that the only sound she could hear was the rapid pant of his breathing.

Ignoring him for a second, Rose turned to the rest of her team. One step at a time, she thought. She had to be strong and keep her head—for them if nothing else. Them, and the innocents strung up against the wall.

“Torchwood is on their way,” Rose said. “They’ll be combing the perimeter for anyone else in the area, but no one is to enter the building until the bomb has been neutralized.”

She looked at each member of her team in turn—Michelle, who she had easily known the longest, Jeremy, pasty faced and fumbling with his gun, and Daniel, eyes steely with determination but his red hair standing out in contrast to his abnormally pale face.

“This is what we’re going to do,” Rose said. “Getting these people out and to safety are our priority, understand?” They nodded. “You get them unchained—I don’t care how, but you do it, and you get them out of here. Only then will we think about leaving ourselves.”

They nodded again. Rose felt compelled to add, “I’ll be working with the Doctor to turn off the bomb. I will get you out of here.” Her eyes flicked to the girl and her mum. “ _All_ of you.”

***

The Doctor listened to Rose address her team as the van pulled to a stop at a red light. He squeezed his eyes shut, his free hand gripping his hair. He felt nauseous, and he took several deep breaths as he struggled to calm down. Rose was in the same room as a high-tech alien bomb. Rose was in the same room as a high-tech alien bomb and five innocent people. Rose was in the same room as a high-tech alien bomb and five innocent people, and he was stuck in a van waiting for a light to change.

Whoever Bob Charila was, he’d done a very good job orchestrating a situation the Doctor found nightmarish.

The Doctor leaned his head back against the seat, listening as Rose tried to reassure those around her. It would be pointless to argue any further, he knew. If there were innocent people in danger there was no way he could convince her to leave them behind, and even disregarding that, he was certain Rose would see this as an opportunity to prove herself--and to test him.

He wished she wouldn’t. Not like this. It was too dangerous. And if something happened to her, here, now, while he was stuck in a van on the other side of town...

He scrubbed his face with one hand and swallowed. “Rose,” he said quietly, doing his best to keep the fear and frustration out of his voice. “Rose, we’ve got to start working on the bomb. There isn’t time.”

“Right.” He heard her suck in a breath, then put on a tone of false bravado. “Okay. All right, genius, tell me what I should do.”

The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his mind to work faster. A basin, she’d said. Translucent but pulsed green--two giant spikes.

“That pulsing noise, Rose, that’s not the time clicking down. A bomb like this, it’s meant to react to movement. It’s designed to defend itself against the slightest interference.”

Rose took that in. “So I can’t touch it.”

“No.”

“Or just.... pick it up and chuck it out the window,” she continued, voice tight and high like she was making an effort to keep it from shaking. “That would be bad, yeah?”

“Very bad.” The Doctor closed his eyes. “I’m on my way, Rose.”

“You’re stuck in _traffic_ ,” she hissed. “Now tell me what I have to do.”

The light changed and the van sped off again, the Doctor thrown uncomfortably against the door. He winced and said, “I don’t.... I would have to scan it with the sonic screwdriver.”

There was a disbelieving pause and then she said, “You don’t know.”

“Rose, if I get it wrong, you and five innocent people will die. Oddly enough, it’s difficult to think straight when your wife is trapped in a room _with a ticking bomb_.”

He sounded harsher than he meant to and Rose sucked in a sharp breath of air. Voice now obviously shaking, she said, “If this is too much for you, I could.... I could try someone else - Malcolm in explosives, he--”

“No, no, I’m sorry.” _One mistake and she’s dead_ , his brain taunted him. And it would be his fault. “Just - just hold on one second...”

Buying himself a few seconds to think, he stuck his head between the two front seats. Don or David or Darien idly tapped his gun against his knee out of sheer nervous energy. Next to him, the driver gripped the steering wheel with white hands, his mouth drawn into a sharp line.

The Doctor hesitated and then said, “We need to get there faster. She only has ten minutes.” He paused. “Nine minutes.”

Don-David-Darien stopped tapping his gun and looked over at the Doctor. There was a bead of sweat collecting in the middle of his forehead. “If anyone can handle disarming an alien bomb, it’s Tyler,” he said.

The Doctor knew the man was only trying to reassure him, but he bit back a retort about how Rose was _his_ wife and he had a pretty good idea of how capable she was, thank you very much. “Thank you,” he only said stiffly.

The driver’s foot pressed down on the gas and he swerved hard around a man on a bicycle. “I’ll get us there, Doctor,” he said. “Just hold on to something.”

“Right,” the Doctor said. He scrambled back into the backseat as the van careened around the corner and pressed the mobile to his ear again. “Rose, listen to me,” he said, putting as much confidence in his voice as he could muster. “You can’t touch it, but you _can_ use sound.”

*****

Rose’s t-shirt was soaked with sweat. Her eyes drifted over to the people chained to the wall. Her team had removed their gags, but they all looked pale and weak. One heavyset man in his late 50s was barely conscious, his eyes rolling back into his head.

As soon as their gags were removed, they all began speaking at once, most of them demanding to know what was happening and when they’d be released. Jeremy paced around the basement room, stopping to hack at their chains with the butt of his gun and grunting in frustration. Michelle and Daniel had disappeared to search the nearby proximity for anything that could be capable of cutting through metal but Rose didn’t have very high hopes that Bob Charila would have left anything behind that would be that helpful.

What they needed was a proper extraction team with proper tools. No, she corrected herself, what they really needed was _more time_. With the building set to blow in nine minutes, she couldn’t in good faith risk putting more people in danger.

Jeremy’s movements became sporadic and ineffectual. Finally, he reared up and yelled, “SHUT UP! JUST..... SHUT UP.”

The mum of the girl let out a great, heaving sob, “Please just free my daughter. _Please_ ,” she begged.

“I’m _trying_!” said Jeremy, red faced and panting, his chest heaving up and down. “Do you think I want to be here, too? Do you think this is my idea of a relaxing afternoon? Do you-”

“That’s enough,” said Rose. She placed one hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and spoke in low, soothing tones. “Go help Michelle and Daniel. We can’t do anything without proper tools.”

Jeremy shook his head. “It’s not possible,” he said, voice cracking. “We’re going to die in here with them, Rose. We should just lea--”

“Go and help Michelle and Daniel,” Rose repeated firmly.

For a second Jeremy looked like he might continue to argue and then, hunching his shoulders, he slumped out to find them. Rose breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone.

She crouched down in front of the girl. “Hello,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Sarita,” said the girl, watching Rose with wide and frightened eyes. She was missing two front teeth and her long dark hair fell below her shoulders.

“That’s a pretty name,” said. “My name’s Rose.” She inclined her head. “Is that your mum?”

Sarita nodded.

Rose smiled reassuringly. “Listen to me, Sarita, I’m going to get you out of here. I promise. But I need you to be brave for your mum and everyone else. Show ‘em that you _know_ we’re going to be okay. Can you do that?”

Sarita nodded again, some of the fear fading from her eyes. She looked like she had been gifted with a task of the utmost importance. Rose touched the girl on the shoulder and then stood up, looking around.

One of the captives, a young white man in his mid-20s, caught Rose’s eyes. He had a tattoo of a serpent on his neck and glared at her fiercely. “ _Torchwood_ ,” he spat, “all the taxes we pay for you to keep us safe and this is the best we get. One rich heiress on a headset.”

Heat rose in Rose’s face but before she could response, an older black woman snorted and said, “As if the likes of _you_ pay taxes.”

“What are you trying to say, lady?” shot back tattoo man.

“Everyone _shut up_!” said Rose. “If Sarita can keep it together, so can the rest of you. You’re _adults_.” She gave the tattoo man a long, hard stare. “For the record, this _is_ the best Torchwood has to offer. And if you don’t like that, if you wish we were someone else, that’s too bad ‘cos there is no one else coming. But you should know, we are putting our _lives_ on the line for you. And I am not leaving this building until you do. Do you understand that?”

The tattoo man looked away, but Rose stepped closer to him, keeping her eyes on his face until he looked at her again.

“Do you,” she said slowly, “understand that?” Tattoo man nodded and Rose set her jaw. “Good.”

Over her phone, the Doctor’s voice said, “Rose, listen to me. You can’t touch it, but you _can_ use sound.”

“Sound?” Rose said doubtfully.

“Well, sound _vibrations_.” He paused and in the background Rose heard the van’s horn go off. The Doctor sounded a little more harried when he said, “It _should_ disrupt the bomb’s frequency. Like pulling out the right wire.”

“Okay,” Rose said, “what sort of sound do I have to make?”

“Well--” he began and his tone of voice made her heart sink. Right away she could tell that he wasn’t at all certain of his theory or even what the next step would be. He was hesitating and he was scared and he was trying to hide it from her.

 _Keep him talking_ , she thought. “A loud noise? Soft? Or something sort of... steady?”

“I don’t - you’d have to take some readings on the sonic screwdriver -”

“I haven’t got a sonic screwdriver,” Rose pointed out reasonably. “I could get these people out if I did, but I don’t. So we’re just going to have to think of something else.”

“What is it?” called Sarita’s mum, desperately pulling against her bonds. “What’s he saying?”

“Hold on a sec.” Rose muffled the voice piece of her headset with her free hand and said, “He’s trying to help.”

She smiled reassuringly but none of the prisoners smiled back. Turning around, she faced the bomb and in a quiet voice, she said, “Eight minutes.”

“I know,” said the Doctor, just as quietly. “I’m sorry.”

He sounded like he was making a physical effort to hold himself together. Rose squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her own heart flutter in her chest. It was awful trying to work through this with him and not be able to touch him or comfort him. They were both letting their emotions get in the way of the problem.

Right now, he was too much of a distraction.

“I’m going to hang up the phone,” she murmured.

“Rose, no--”

“Neither of us are thinking straight right now,” she said. “Take a few minutes to think it through, yeah? Talk it over with those blokes in the van, you know how you like the sound of your own voice.”

“Talking to you helps.”

“No, it’s not. Not right now.” She took a breath. “And Doctor, listen - if you can’t... if you can’t think of anything.... that’s not your fault. And we’ll get back in touch, yeah?” Her legs shook as she struggled to finish and it took all her strength to stay on her feet. “We’ll say a proper goodbye.”

Before he could respond, Rose turned off her headset, heart hammering inside of her. She stood still another few minutes, breathing deeply and trying to gather herself back under control. Heavy tears pressed down against her eyes.

She didn’t want to die here—not like this, trapped in a basement of a factory with a bomb planted by some bloke who thought he was playing a joke on them. And she especially didn’t want to die before seeing the Doctor again one last time.

Footsteps entered the basement behind her and she turned around to find her team, grateful for the timely distraction. Her heart sunk when she saw that they were empty-handed.

Already knowing the answer, Rose said, “Anything?”

Michelle looked grim but then she smiled. “Oh, yeah.” She lifted her hand, revealing a rusted nail, a piece of twine, and what looked like half a hair clip. “We don’t have bolt-cutters, but we do have me. I’m going to pick their locks.”

Rose stared at her, momentarily speechless. Over Michelle’s head, Daniel and Jeremy exchanged a smug look. “Oh, Michelle, that is _brilliant_.” She closed the distance between them and wrapped her friend in a tight hug. “Best team in the universe. Just like I said.”

Rose’s spirits felt buoyed as she pulled away. Maybe they would all make it out after all.

She glanced back at the timer. Seven minutes.

***

For a moment the Doctor sat frozen, the mobile still pressed to his ear, listening to the silence on the other end of the line, replaying Rose’s words over and over in his head.

_We’ll say a proper goodbye._

For a moment he considered calling her back. If there were less than eight minutes left in Rose Tyler’s life he wanted to spend every second of them listening to her voice. But her voice had been wobbling when she spoke, and he knew that maybe this was Rose’s way of coping. Maybe she didn’t _want_ to talk to him. Maybe it was too hard. With a shaking hand he lowered the phone and finally snapped it shut. He took a couple shallow breaths and focused his attention on not chucking the mobile out the window.

From the front seat, Don-David-Darien glanced backwards, looking cautiously at the Doctor. “Everything... all right?”

“All right? Is everything _all right?_ ” the Doctor snarled. “There are five innocent people chained in a room with a high-tech bomb I don’t know how to disarm, and my wife has just promised me she’ll call back in about seven minutes so we can say a nice goodbye before she dies. Oh, yeah, I’d say everything is _fantastic_.”

Looking thoroughly cowed, Don-David-Darien stared at his hands.

The Doctor turned his attention to the driver. “We need to go faster. I can help them, I can, but not from the back of this van.”

The driver spun the wheel to make a hard right turn. “We’re going as fast as we can.”

“ _It’s not fast enough_! If we don’t get there in the next couple minutes, _people will die_ , are we clear on that?”

“Yeah,” said the driver, “and if I crash this van, we won’t be getting there at all. You need to calm down.”

The Doctor opened his mouth, ready to explain in great detail precisely why he had no intention of calming down, but Don-David-Darien spoke first. “Doctor, Tyler and her team... they’re not chained to the building. Even if they can’t save those people...” he paused, looking apologetic for what he’d just said, “...they can still get out. She’ll be okay.”

The Doctor stared at him. “Rose would never leave those people.”

Don-David-Darien hesitated, looking like he wanted to argue, but then he seemed to think better of it and gave a helpless shrug.

The Doctor sank back against his seat, the anger gone as quick as it’d come, replaced once more by panic and a deep sense of failure. A part of him desperately wanted to take solace in what Don-David-Darien was saying, but he _knew_ Rose Tyler, knew the depths of her compassion, and he knew that she would do everything in her power to keep her promise to those people.

Even if that amounted to nothing less than dying with them.

Rose had hung up the phone because she was worried that he was too emotional to think straight. But the Doctor’s mind was working as well as it always did. He knew that the style of bomb she was faced with was customizable, and that without examining it himself he could do no better than blindly guess what frequency would disarm it. He knew the wrong frequency could detonate it. He knew an explosion that powerful in the basement of a building could bring down the whole structure, burying Rose and the others in the rubble. He knew precisely how long Rose and the others had left to live -- six minutes, thirty seconds. He knew the shortest distance from the van to the factory, knew the exact speed they were going, and knew they wouldn’t get there in time.

And he knew that if he _was_ there -- or if he’d refused to split up, or if he’d chosen to inspect the factory himself, or if he’d bothered to give Rose a sonic screwdriver -- everything would be fine. But he hadn’t, and it wasn’t, and in six minutes and thirty seconds when Rose died, he would know who to blame.

 _Not your fault_ , Rose had said.

She was wrong. It always was.

The Doctor buried his face in his hands and tried not to cry.


	2. Chapter 2

Rose’s sweat-soaked t-shirt clung to her back as she stared at the row of prisoners. She might have had a rusted nail, a piece of twine and Michelle’s lock picking abilities--but she still had five prisoners and less than seven minutes left on the clock. She had to face the reality that it would be impossible to get them all out  _and_  to safety before the bomb went off.  
  
For a moment, her eyes roamed over them restlessly--before stopping on Sarita. Her heart seemed to expand in her chest and it took all her willpower not to order Michelle to work on the little girl first. All of them would have families at home--people in their lives that would never forgive her if she didn’t get them out alive.  
  
Finding her voice, Rose turned to Daniel. “How long would it take us to get out of the factory?”  
  
Daniel looked remarkably calm, especially in comparison to Jeremy, who was pacing the room and dabbing at his forehead with his sleeve.  
  
“Oh, maybe.... forty-five seconds to get out of the basement.” His eyes landed on the half-unconscious man. “Make that sixty if we have to carry someone.”  
  
“And to clear the building?”  
  
“At least a minute and a half.”  
  
Rose nodded. Okay—okay, she could work with that. Her attention shifted to Michelle who was bent over and inspecting the chains. “Michelle?”  
  
The other woman looked up. A sheen of sweat collected on her brow, but there was a hard, determined look in her eyes. “I’ll have to do them one at a time.” She paused. “Some will take longer than others.”  
  
“Right,” said Rose. “Well... start with whatever is going to be easiest.”  
  
She briefly met Rose’s eyes with something that looked like regret. But she only said, “Got it.”   
  
Then she walked over to the unconscious man, crouching down over the lock. Without another word, she got to work on his chains. Rose couldn’t quite stop her stab of disappointment—if she was honest with herself, the middle-aged unconscious man would not have been her first choice.  
  
Immediately the other prisoners began to shout.  
  
“How come  _he_  gets to go first?” yelled tattoo man. “I want to speak to your supervisor about this!”  
  
“Please, my daughter,” begged Sarita’s mum, beginning to cry again, “she’s so young,  _please_ , Ms Rose Tyler,  _please_.”  
  
“I’ve got two grandkids at home,” said the older woman, “they’ve got no one else in the world to look after them.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Rose said and her voice cracked. “I know how badly you all want to get out and I’m sorry, but this is the way it’s going to be.”  
  
Only Sarita seemed to be holding it together. Her wide eyes were fixed on Rose, shining with a trust she had seen on the faces of many people before—people who had met the Doctor. It both unnerved and pleased her that she was now capable of inspiring the same trust in others.  
  
The problem was, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she let Sarita down.  
  
“And what about  _us_?” Jeremy suddenly demanded. His hands were shaking and his face was nearly the same colour as the cement walls. “I’ve got a daughter at home who’s going to go hungry tonight because, oh yeah, her dad’s stuck in a basement with a  _bomb_. And I’m not even chained to a bloody wall!”  
  
Michelle shot Jeremy a baleful look before returning to the lock. Daniel rolled his eyes at the ceiling, but then shrugged at Rose as if to say ‘he’s got a point.’  
  
Rose looked over at the timer. Five and a half minutes.  
  
“It’s your choice to stay, Jeremy,” she finally said, sounding tired. “I won’t stop you if you leave.”  
  
Jeremy sunk to his knees, resting his head between his arms and breathing heavily. “I just... I don’t want to die. Not yet.”   
  
Rose stared at him helplessly and then turned to look at Daniel. “Do you have any water left?”  
  
“Not much.” Rose stared at him until he relented. “All right, okay, I’ll give it to him.”  
  
Daniel unhooked his water bottle from his belt and handed it over to Jeremy who took it with both hands and gulped it down greedily. It struck Rose how dry her own throat was—she had used up the last of her water supply while they had searched the top floors of the factory. It had never  _really_  occurred to her that they would have ended up so trapped in the building.  
  
If— _when_  she got out of this, she was going to curl up next to the Doctor and sleep for a week.   
  
Her headset suddenly buzzed and her heart lifted. Maybe it was the Doctor. Maybe he’d thought of something.  
  
Her eyes darted to the timer. Five minutes left.  
  
She switched on her headset. “Hello? Tyler speaking.”  
  
Her heart sank when Pete’s voice answered. “Rose, we’ve reached the factory and created a safe perimeter around the building. We’re evacuating any civilians in the area. Luckily for us, Bob Charila picked a low density area.”  
  
“Yeah, lucky,” Rose said dully. “Listen, Dad—we’re going to be sending some of these people out to you soon. One of them has heat stroke or something—he’s still breathing, but he’s barely conscious. Everyone else is just dehydrated.”  
  
“We’ll have someone on it.”  
  
“Good, thanks.” She paused and then, dropping her voice, she said, “We’re not going to have enough time.”  
  
It was a moment before Pete answered. “Is the Doctor....?”  
  
“Stuck in traffic.” Thinking about the Doctor made her feel nauseous and Rose forced herself to press on. “I don’t think he knows how to stop the bomb. Not without scanning it with the sonic screwdriver first.”  
  
Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught Michelle straightening, lock held in her hand. The unconscious man slumped on his side, head rolling onto the floor. In a flash, Michelle moved on to the older woman, working at her lock with the same steady determination she’d showed earlier.  
  
“Oh, thank you,  _thank you_ ,” said the woman, “bless you, dear girl.”  
  
Pete sounded distinctly shaken when he said, “The Doctor will think of something. You know what he’s like, Rose. He just needs some time to think it over.”  
  
“Dad—” she whispered, her voice catching. She paused and then tried again. “That’s not what I’m worried about. When he gets here— _if_  he gets here.... he’s going to want to come and find me, yeah? And there’s not gonna be time. Promise me you won’t let him. No matter what happens, I need to know he’s going to be okay.”  
  
Beginning to sound choked up himself, Pete said, “Of course.” And then, “Rose, you know I’d never ask you to sacrifice innocent people, but if you can’t get them out... you have to start thinking about yourselves.”  
  
Rose glanced at the clock. Four minutes and twenty seconds. “I know.”  
  
“It doesn’t help anyone for you to die with them.”  
  
“I know,” she repeated.  
  
“Rose, I’m serious, I know what you and the Doctor are like but—”  
  
“HA!” called Michelle. “Another one is down!”  
  
“Dad, I’ve got to go,” Rose said hurriedly. Before he could reply, she disconnected her headset.  
  
The chains clattered from around the old woman’s feet and ankles and despite the heat, she practically leaped up. “Oh, I could just hug you.” She looked around the cramped and sweltering basement. “Now, how soon can I get out of this place?”  
  
Rose glanced at the timer. Just under four minutes left. She felt her hand itching at her side—with so little time left, the temptation to call the Doctor back was overwhelming. Wouldn’t it make her feel better, just a little bit, to listen to his voice?  
  
She told herself to  _focus_ , to just think about the scene in front of her. Thinking about the Doctor made her want to take Pete’s advice—if she just abandoned them, Sarita and her mum, and the tattoo man and saved herself, well, no one could blame her, could they? They would have saved two.  
  
But she would have left three people to die—and what sort of person did that make her? Could the Doctor love a person like that, someone who saved themselves even when they still had a chance to save others?  
  
She took a breath. “Daniel, Jeremy—” she swung her gaze over to them. Daniel was on his feet, standing over Jeremy who was sitting with his back leaning against the wall. He was still sweating heavily, but some of the colour had returned to his face. He turned his face towards Rose when she spoke, and she was relieved to see his eyes were alert. “You two are in charge of getting these people out and to safety.”  
  
Daniel nodded—immediately he stepped over the unconscious man. He tugged one of the man’s large arms over his shoulders and then hefted him to his feet. But Jeremy hesitated, gaze swinging from Daniel to Rose and back again.  
  
“But...” he began.  
  
Rose kept her voice gentle. “We need to start clearing the building,” she said. “You get these people out safely, yeah? The rest of us will be behind you.”  
  
Jeremy stared at her for a moment longer, perhaps seeing the lie in her face, and then he shakily pushed himself to his feet. “Got it.”  
  
Rose inclined her head and Jeremy went over to help Daniel. Rose’s gaze drifted over the rest of the chained up prisoners before landing on Michelle.  
  
“You can go with them,” Rose said. She swallowed. “I’m not going to order you to stay.”  
  
Michelle bowed her head like she was considering it. Then she hefted her chin, a fierce look in her eyes. “I have time for one more,” she said, carefully shifting over until she was squatting in front of Sarita.  
  
Rose couldn’t stop her smile. “Michelle,” she said, “whatever Pete is paying you, it’s not enough.”  
  
Michelle turned to wink at Rose over her shoulder. “Remind him of that around Christmas time.”  
  
But the tattooed man interrupted them. “What about me, huh?” he demanded. “Are you just going to leave me here to die, is that it?”  
  
Rose met his gaze. “I won’t be leaving anyone.”  
  
Michelle’s hands jumped slightly at Rose’s hands words but she quickly regained her cool, fingers swiftly working the rusted nail into the lock.  
  
Rose turned back to the bomb.  
  
Three minutes left.  
  
***  
  
The Doctor stared out the window in silence as the van blasted down a tight London street. The air conditioning was on at full blast while outdoors overheated mothers struggled to push baby carriages over the pavement and young men pulled their t-shirts over their heads in favour of going bare-chested. People stared as the van roared past, some of them jumping out of the way at the last minute and brandishing the finger in their direction.   
  
From up front, Don or David or Darien turned around and shouted, “Almost there!”  
  
The Doctor didn’t bother replying that ‘almost’ wasn’t close enough. He could practically  _see_  it in his mind, the basement with the ticking bomb inside. Rose had three minutes left and he was no closer to helping her than when she’d hung up on him.  
  
Is this what it would come down to? After more than two years together, was this how it would end?  
  
His hands shook as he dug out his mobile. If these were Rose’s last minutes, he was going to spend them talking to her. He dialled her number and then held his breath as he waited for her to pick up.  
  
She answered on the first ring. “Hello?”  
  
He breathed out, unprepared for the great wave of emotion that swept over him. He leaned heavily against the door and made an effort to stop shaking. “Hi,” he said, somehow managing to sound remarkably calm. “How are you?”  
  
She made a noise that sounded like a chuckle. “Oh, you know, the same.” She paused and in a more contrite voice, said, “It’s good to hear your voice.” There was another pause. “I wish you were here.”  
  
He felt his heart breaking. If only he hadn’t agreed to splitting up—if only he had gone with her to the factory while Torchwood handled St. Paul’s. If only he wasn’t stuck in  _traffic_  while his wife was only a few short miles away, counting down her last seconds.  
  
“Just... just don’t hang up again,” he whispered. “Please.”  
  
“Okay,” she replied and the resignation in her voice chilled him more than anything else. She took a breath and with fake cheer said, “Turns out Michelle can do medieval style chains as well as high-tech doors.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“We’ve managed to get two people out. She’s working on the third now.”  
  
The Doctor mentally did the math—three people left, at least a minute per lock, maybe more. And they would need at least ninety seconds to clear the building safely....  
  
“You won’t have time for all of them,” he finally said.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Leave,” he found himself saying urgently. “Rose, please. Just... get out of there.”  
  
“Have you come up with a way of stopping the bomb?”  
  
He hesitated. “No.”  
  
“Then I can’t.”  
  
“What  _good_  does it do?” he exploded. “You’re not helping  _anyone_  by dying with them!”  
  
“I could still think of something... some way of stopping it.”  
  
“You’re talking about  _suicide_ ,” he nearly spat. “Just  _leave_.”  
  
A part of him felt guilty for yelling at her, but a larger part, a part that barely even registered the rest of the prisoners, didn’t care one bit. How could she just... just throw everything they had built together? How could she expect him to go on knowing that if he had just been a few minutes faster, he could have saved her?  
  
“What sort of person would that make me?” she demanded, sounding agitated and on the verge of tears. “Is that the sort of woman you married—someone who leaves others behind to die?”  
  
He closed his eyes, breaths beginning to sound like harsh pants. Was this his fault? Was a part of her still trying to prove to him she could look out for herself and handle the situation? Was she trying to punish him for trying to keep her safe?  
  
It was too much. He wouldn’t be able to survive it if he lost her, and especially not like this. What would be the  _point_  of this human life he didn’t have Rose?  
  
“Please leave,” he begged again, a broken and desperate sound.  
  
Up front, Don or David or Darien shifted uncomfortably and then made a show of fiddling with the radio, humming under his breath as if to imply he wasn’t paying attention to the crazy emotional man in the backseat. Oh, not at all.  
  
Over the phone, Rose began to cry. “I’m sorry.”  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t helping her like this—the last thing she deserved was a part-human Time Lord having a complete breakdown.  
  
He thought for a second and then said, “Rose, do you know where we’ve never been? Barcelona. About time we finally did, don’t you think?”  
  
The abrupt change of subject seemed to get through to her and a sudden, hysterical laugh bubbled up through the phone. He tried not to think about how it might be the last time he would ever hear that sound—her laughter.  
  
“Dogs without noses?”  
  
“That’s the one,” he said. “Although... parallel universe, it could be anything.”  
  
“I would have loved it,” she said. There was a pause. “Promise me you’ll still go? For me?”  
  
Tears were beginning to blur his vision. “I will.”  
  
“And who knows?” she continued. “Maybe you’ll even find someone else one day to go travelling with. I think I’d like that.”  
  
“Rose—” he started in a choked voice. How could she ask him to even  _think_  about that now?  
  
“I can’t stand to think about leaving you on your own,” she said thickly. “I never thought I’d... I was going to spend my life with you.”  
  
“Stop it.”  
  
“I’m sorry, I...” There was a  _whooshing_  sound and then quiet on the other side of the phone.  
  
The Doctor jerked upright, yelling into the mobile, “Rose? Rose, are you there?  _Rose_?”  
  
Finally, her voice answered, “Yeah, I’m here. My knees buckled, that’s all.”  
  
 _That’s all_. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m sitting now,” she said dully. “Waiting.”  
  
His heart pounded in his ears. She sounded so tired.  
  
“Rose,” he hissed, “stop talking like that—like you’ve given up. We just need to  _think_.” He grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled. He needed something— _anything_. He wouldn’t let her go out like this. Then he scrambled upwards. “An interruption,” he breathed, “ _that’s_  what it needs. An interruption, Rose.”  
  
Immediately he sensed a change in her. “How do you mean?”  
  
“What disrupts a frequency? Well, sound waves of course, which is easy-peasy when you have sonic screwdriver that just happens to be very good with frequencies. But if you don’t—”  
  
“—create an interruption,” Rose finished breathlessly. He pictured her jumping to her feet and scanning the basement for something she could use, her gaze once again alert and sharp.  
  
Just then, the van came to a sudden stop and the Doctor was thrown back against the seat. Scrambling to hold onto his mobile, he looked around. His heart leaped in his throat. The factory.  
  
They’d arrived.  
  
“Rose—” he said, almost laughing. “Rose, we’re here.”  
  
She sucked in a breath. “Doctor, no—”  
  
He grabbed the door handle and swung the door open. He’d barely touched pavement when a group of Torchwood’s most formidable closed in around him, dressed head-to-foot in riot gear.  
  
Frustration and anger bubbled up inside of him. He had  _not_  come this far to be stonewalled by Torchwood.  
  
He lowered the mobile. “Out of my way,” he hissed. “I’m going into that building.”  
  
The Torchwood agents stared back at him, their faces hard and sharp. He doubted that any of them would actually  _hurt_  him, but he had no doubt that they were physically capable of stopping him if he headed towards the building.  
  
If he headed towards Rose.  
  
For a second, his vision blurred as an intense burst of rage swept through him. How dare they keep him from her? Wouldn’t each and every one of them do the same thing if it was  _  
their_  wife or family trapped in the building?  
  
Then he heard Don or David or Darien opening the front door of the van. The Doctor turned on instinct—if he pushed Don-David-Darien out of the way, he could hijack the van for himself. It didn’t matter how much riot gear they were wearing—Torchwood agents wouldn’t be able to stop a moving van.  
  
But then a familiar voice called, “Doctor!”  
  
The Doctor snapped back down to Earth, the red haze of his vision clearing. He looked over as Pete elbowed his way through the heavily armoured Torchwood agents. Glad to have a place in which to direct his anger, the Doctor rounded on him, his eyes blazing.  
  
“You call your men off,” he said. “You call them off  _right now_.”  
  
“Doctor, I understand how you feel—”  
  
“Oh, I doubt that. Should we put Jackie in that building and test that theory?”  
  
Pete continued unabated. “That timer just hit sixty seconds—the chances of even you getting there in time are extremely low.”  
  
“I don’t care,” the Doctor said, “I am  _not_  going to stand out here while my wife is trapped inside a building with an alien bomb!”  
  
Pete looked apologetic, but he held his ground. “Who do you think the orders come from?”  
  
The Doctor stared at him, angry and helpless. Then he pressed his mobile back to his ear. “Rose,” he said in a low and deadly voice, “Rose, call them off.”  
  
“No,” she whispered.  
  
“ _Rose_ ,” he turned around, leaning heavily against the van and bowing his head. “Please.”  
  
“And what good would it do?” she said desperately. “Don’t make me responsible for ending your life, too.”  
  
“I can  _help_  you!” he said into the phone.  
  
“Not with forty-five seconds left on the clock!” she said, sounding on the verge of hysteria. “You wouldn’t even make it to me in time.”  
  
The van was burning to the touch and for the first time, he registered the hot sun beating down on him. He felt unsteady on his feet and the world seemed to fade in and out around him.  
  
“I can try,” he whispered.  
  
“Too bad,” Rose said. “‘Cos I’m not going to let you.”  
  
His eyes caught on something then. It was Michelle—she was running from the building, a small dark-haired girl clutching her hand. Torchwood medics ran out to meet them, one of them scooping the girl up in his arms.  
  
For a second, the Doctor considered raging at Rose—why couldn’t she have gone with them? Why did she have to be so... so...  _noble_  that she sent everyone else out and not herself?  
  
But then Rose said, with some excitement, “My gun, Doctor. I still have my gun.”  
  
“What?” he whispered, lips dry and chapped. Time seemed to be going in slow motion and something heavy and painful pushed down on his chest.  
  
“What if I shot it? That would be an interruption, yeah? A big one.”  
  
“I don’t... maybe.” He paused, willing himself to focus. “It could also detonate it.”  
  
“It’s not like I have a lot of other options at the moment, do I?”  
  
“No,” the Doctor admitted. “It would certainly touch it—but then, it’s also one hell of an interruption.” Even as he spoke, the Doctor sensed the seconds ticking down in his head. Twenty-five. Twenty-four. “Do it.”  
  
“Okay,” said Rose, and the defeated, tired tone was gone from her voice. Instead she sounded brave and determined and hopeful—all the things he loved so much about her.  
  
He closed his eyes, his head beginning to pound. “Rose, I love you.”  _So much_.  
  
Fifteen seconds.  
  
“I love you, too,” she responded. “These last few years, I wouldn’t change a thing, yeah?”  
  
Then, without another word, he heard her gun click and then fire. He kept his gaze on the building as the shot rang out. He held his breath through the ensuing crash, waiting for the bomb to explode. On the other side of the phone, he heard Rose breathing sharply in and out.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
He waited until the timer was to have run out. And still nothing happened.  
  
He waited another ten seconds after that and then, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he said, “Rose!”  
  
“It worked!” came the joyous response. “I hit it and it stopped—it  _stopped_!”  
  
The relief that swept through him was so powerful that the Doctor clutched the van to stay on his feet. But then he grinned, whooping into the phone.  
  
“Oh, Rose, you are clever.”  
  
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” she said, and then she added, “I love you. I love you  _so much_.”  
  
He gave another laugh. Around him, Torchwood looked bemused but relieved—Pete most of all.  
  
“Too close,” Pete muttered. “Far too close.”  
  
Addressing both Rose and Torchwood, the Doctor said, “We’ve still got some hostages to free, hmm?” he pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket. “Time for me to head in, eh?”  
  
“Yes, please!” Rose crowed in his ear. Pete nodded at the Torchwood agents and they moved out of his way.  
  
“Rob, follow him in,” Pete said. Off the Doctor’s look, he added, “Just a precaution.”  
  
At the moment, the Doctor didn’t care. All he wanted was to hold Rose again and not let her go for a very, very long time. Still grinning, he turned to head into the factory, Rob at his heels.  
  
He’d taken two steps forward when the top floor of the factory exploded, throwing him backwards and off his feet. 


	3. Chapter 3

Stars exploded behind the Doctor’s eyes as his head cracked back against the asphalt. Momentarily dazed, he blinked up at the sky as he tried to sort out what had just happened -- and then he felt his stomach drop. The factory had exploded.

Scrambling to his feet, the Doctor stared at the building in disbelief. No, no, no -- this was all wrong. There shouldn’t have been any explosion. Rose had stopped the bomb.

 _Rose_. Realizing his hands were empty, he dropped to the ground, searching for his mobile. Rose was okay. She _had_ to be okay. If she wasn’t...

He found his mobile and hurried to press it to his ear, his heart racing. “Rose? Rose, can you hear me? Are you all right? _Rose_?”

One silent second ticked by, and then another. The Doctor waited, frozen, his entire body tense. Then there was fumbling on the other end of the line, and Rose’s voice. “Doctor? Doctor, are you there?”

The Doctor closed his eyes, sighing with relief. “Hi.”

“Doctor,” she began, “what--”

She was cut off by a loud rumble and the Doctor’s gaze snapped up as the top left side of the building splintered and then collapsed.

The Doctor instinctively jumped back as dust and debris exploded from the building. He broke down into a fit of pained coughs, covering his mouth with his hand. The mobile almost slipped from his sweaty hand, but he pushed it back to his ear.

His voice was dry and scratchy. “Rose! What happened? Are you there?” He struggled to breathe through the thick cloud of ash and dust hanging in the air. “Can you still hear me? Rose?”

There was nothing but silence from the other end of the line.

For a second, the Doctor couldn’t move, too consumed by panic to think straight. The connection hadn’t been dropped--her headset was still working. So why wasn’t she answering him? Was she hurt?

Was she even still alive?

Some of the dust cleared and he could see that most of the building’s bottom floors were still standing. He did some quick calculations--the bomb had exploded on one of the top floors of the building. But Rose had been in the basement. There had been a second bomb, then. Whoever Bob Charila was, he obviously hadn’t wanted to fail.

The Doctor’s chest constricted in fear. But _why_? Why the whole show--why trap Rose with a ticking bomb and five innocent people in the first place? _Why_ go through the whole song and dance if a bomb was going to be set off anyway? The whole thing felt like it was purposely designed to be some sort of sick torture or test.

He spoke into the phone again, “Rose? Rose, can you hear me? Please. Rose, _please_.”

His heart sank as the seconds passed without a response. There was no guarantee the factory would hold for much longer, but if there was a _chance_ that Rose had been protected from most of the damage in the basement....

He glanced once behind him - most of the rest of Torchwood seemed preoccupied with holding back civilians and the media. His gaze briefly landed on Michelle, who was still attending to the young girl, and then he hurriedly looked away.

He would have to act quickly to avoid attracting attention. Decision made, the Doctor strode towards the building, his free hand automatically searching through his pockets for the sonic screwdriver.

But someone grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back. “You can’t go in there yet,” hissed Pete’s voice. He coughed a few times, clearly more affected by the building’s debris than the Doctor was. “It’s not safe.”

The Doctor wrenched his arm out of Pete’s grip, sending him a deadly look. “I don’t care. Rose is in there—if she’s still alive...”

He let the sentence go unfinished and strode forward again, only stopping when Pete bodily threw himself in the Doctor’s path. He was still coughing, but made an effort to stand up straight. “That whole building could come down at any second.”

“Then all the more reason to get in and out quickly, hmm?” the Doctor said, keeping his tone mild. But he kept his gaze on Pete’s face, plainly trying to convey that he _was_ going into the factory with or without the other man’s support.

“We’ll assemble a team,” said Pete in a tone that was probably supposed to sound reassuring, but made the Doctor clenched his jaw in irritation. “We’ll get them out. But we are _not_ going in there until we know it’s safe.”

“There are people in there.” The Doctor could feel his hands beginning to shake with anger. “They could be hurt. They need help. I am not waiting for the rest of that building to fall down on top of them.”

Pete’s face was shining with sweat and dust but he held his ground. “I promised Rose, I told her I would keep you safe, and I’m planning to do that.” He raised his hand as if to signal for backup. “Just wait a little longer, Doctor. What if there’s another bomb?”

The Doctor stared at him for a moment longer and then made a show of looking at his mobile. “Ooh, let’s see, I _know_ Rose programmed Jackie’s number in here somewhere,” he paused. “Ah--there it is under ‘Mum.’ Don’t have one myself so it must be Jackie. What do you reckon, Pete? Should we give it a go? What do you think she’ll say when I tell her that _her daughter_ is trapped underneath a building that’s about to come down on her head?”

Pete visibly paled, but he lowered his hand. “That’s low.”

The Doctor dropped his congenial act. “I am going into that building, Pete Tyler. You may have all of Torchwood at your disposal, but you know that you can’t stop me, not for long anyway. Now you can help me or we can phone Jackie. What will it be?”

Pete stared back at him, solemn and stony-faced. Then he pulled out a walkie-talkie and pressed it into the Doctor’s hand. “Keep in constant touch, do you hear me? If you find them... _once_ you find them, we’ll need an update on their medical condition, asap.”

The Doctor closed his hand around the walkie-talkie. “Thank you,” he said.

Pete cleared his throat. “That building could be infected with asbestos or any number of old - ”

“I’ll be fine.”

“As a safety precaution - ”

“I’ll be _fine_ ,” the Doctor hissed, rapidly reaching the end of his patience. “Do you think I care about _asbestos_ when Rose is... when she’s....”

Pete managed a tight nod as though he sensed that the walkie-talkie was as good as he was going to get. “Bring her back safely, Doctor.”

***

The Doctor moved quickly but cautiously as he entered the factory. The building seemed to creak and teeter around him, a constant reminder that the whole thing could fall down at any moment. The air inside the building was thick with dust, and he kept one hand clamped over his mouth and nose as a makeshift filter.

Pieces of drywall from the ceiling littered his path and the explosion had left behind doors that were bent over and misshapen. The cement walls were cracked and rigid and infested with roaches that were pouring out of the walls in an attempt to escape the chaos.

He didn’t allow himself to entertain the possibility that the entrance to the basement might be covered in debris. He _would_ find Rose and the others. And he would get them out of the building alive.

The Doctor stepped over a fallen ceiling beam and stopped in front of a closed door. It had held up well despite the explosion, but it creaked open with only a light push. Behind the door was a descending staircase and the Doctor swallowed heavily. Rose was down there.

Steeling himself as best he could, the Doctor started down the staircase, the stairs seeming to creak more with each step. The basement was nearly pitch-black, and the Doctor fumbled around in his pocket before he found a torch. The beam of light dully illuminated the concrete in front of him and he squinted into the darkness, eyes frantically combing each corner and step in front of him.

“Rose?” he called. “Rose, can you hear me?”

The walkie-talkie in his hand broke the silence and he jumped. “Doctor?” came Pete Tyler’s voice. “How are you doing?”

The Doctor fought the urge to take out his growing frustration on Pete—he was in a building that was crumbling to the ground and searching for his probably injured wife who very well may have just died. How did he _think_ it was going?

But he only said, “Just made it to the basement. Nothing yet.”

There was a moment’s hesitation from Pete’s end of the line and then he said, “They should be in the east wing.”

“Great, yeah,” said the Doctor, not entirely able to hide his annoyance. “This walkie-talkie’s been very helpful, thanks.”

Without another word, he shoved the walkie-talkie into one pocket and reached for the sonic screwdriver. He didn’t have time to waste wandering around aimlessly. The sonic screwdriver would be able to pick up the signal from Rose’s headset and point him in the right direction.

He turned in a slow half-circle, the sonic screwdriver held out in front of him, scanning for a signal. It took a minute, but then the whirr of the screwdriver changed as it picked up the direction of the signal. With equal parts determination and trepidation, the Doctor took off in that direction.

The closer he got, the more disarray the building was in; bits and pieces of wall or ceiling had fallen to the floor, and the floor itself was cracked.

The Doctor tried very hard not to think about what that might mean.

As he dodged around a fallen beam, he could just make out a quiet noise in the distance, something other than the clatter of occasional falling wood or concrete. It sounded like a woman crying.

“Hello?” the Doctor called, speeding up again and nearly stumbling over a fallen support beam. “Is someone there? Can you hear me?” He swallowed. “Rose, is that you?”

“Oh, my god!” came a woman’s voice, and the Doctor tried not to let his heart sink when he realized it wasn’t Rose. “We’re over here! Help us, please! We’re trapped, we’ve been here for hours -- please, please, you’ve got to get us out, I’ve got a little girl, she’s--”

“I’m coming,” the Doctor said, following the sound of her voice as much as the screwdriver. “I’ll get you out, I promise. Hang on.”

“Yeah, we’ve heard that before,” said a second voice -- a man’s, this time, and though his tone was angrier than the woman’s, the Doctor heard obvious fear in his voice.

The Doctor didn’t argue. Instead he turned one last corner, and the beam from his torch revealed the crying woman, shackled to the floor, her face and hair covered in dust. The Doctor shone the torch a few feet to the left, and saw a young man with tattoos. Though the wall across from them had collapsed, they seemed unhurt.

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” said the woman.

“About time,” said the man, but he was trembling.

Throat tight, the Doctor only nodded as he anxiously scanned the rest of the room with the torch. Rose had to be here _somewhere_. She’d been with them. She’d...

“There was a woman here...” he began, but the woman chained the floor cut him off.

“Please,” she begged, her voice breaking with tears again. “Please, please, get us out--”

The Doctor moved almost mechanically as he knelt down to press the sonic screwdriver to the locks binding the woman. The locks clicked open with ease, but the Doctor barely registered the woman’s words of thanks. He pressed the sonic screwdriver to the man’s chains as well, the fear building in his chest. Where _was_ Rose?

“You’re her husband, right?” said the man, startling the Doctor out of his thoughts. “The bloke from the phone. I’ve seen you in the papers.” The gruff tone was gone, and the man sounded sad. “I’m sorry.”

The words had the effect of a bucket of ice water. The woman next to them gave a quiet sob, but the Doctor sat frozen, his heart pounding in his ears. “What? Sorry? Sorry for what?”

The man didn’t answer; he only gestured behind the Doctor with his hand.

With what felt like an enormous effort, the Doctor turned and shone the torch in the direction the man had indicated. There, beneath a pile of rubble that had once been the opposite wall, the Doctor could just see Rose’s head, covered in dust, a small trickle of blood running from her temple down her face.

The Doctor couldn’t help the strangled noise he made as he scrambled over to her.

“No,” he whispered, feeling light-headed, struggling to breathe. “No. Rose... please...”

He dropped the sonic and the torch and reached out with one trembling hand, brushing her cheek and then moving his fingers to the base of her jaw, feeling for a pulse. Her body was still warm and a second later he felt it - a steady heartbeat against his fingers.

He felt such a powerful wave of relief that for a moment he was light-headed. But the creaking of the building above him reminded him that they were going on borrowed time.

He moved his fingers from her throat and stroked her hair back, brushing off the worst of the dust. “Rose,” he croaked, “Rose, I’m here--can you hear me?”

He shifted his gaze to the rest of her body. She was pinned to the floor, her lower-half buried under the fallen wall. He could tell right away that he wouldn’t be strong enough on his own to move the cement beam lying across her legs.

With a shaking hand, he took the walkie-talkie out of his pocket and said, “Pete, I’ve found them.”

There was scrambled static noise, and then Pete said, “Doctor, when I said ‘stay in touch at all times,’ I did _not_ mean ‘completely ignore my orders.’”

The Doctor didn’t respond to that. “I need an extraction team,” he said. “It’s Rose. She’s buried under rubble. I’m not strong enough on my own and she’s... she’s injured.”

Pete sighed. “Doctor, you know I can’t send anyone else into that building. Not before my team finishes its inspection.”

For a second, the Doctor considered hurling the walkie-talkie against the nearest wall. He took a deep breath. And then another. And then said, “It’s Rose.”

“I’ll send someone to you as soon as I can.”

“Of course you will,” the Doctor hissed and then he signed off, burying the walkie-talkie back into his pocket. Fat lot of help that was.

He bowed his head, fingers combing through Rose’s hair. Above him the building’s walls shook but held. Panic seized him--what if he couldn’t get Rose out on his own? The factory could crumble at any moment, but he could never bring himself to leave without her.

The awkward silence that followed was broken only by the jingle of the chains as the people behind him stood up, but the Doctor didn’t turn to look. He stared down at Rose, suddenly feeling as weak and useless as he had in the van.

“I’ve got to stay with her,” he said after a moment, still gazing down at Rose while he addressed the others. “But you should go.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded hollow. “There’s been structural damage, this building’s not safe.” He gestured in the direction he’d come from. “If you turn left at the first hallway and go straight you’ll find a staircase to the first floor. Should be easy to get out from there. There’s a team waiting outside, they’ll take care of you.” He reached back, holding out the torch, Rose fading from view as the beam of light shone behind him. “Take this.”

Someone touched his shoulder and he turned his head and looked into the kind eyes of the woman. “‘Doctor’ she called you, yes?” The Doctor nodded. “Well, Doctor.... we want to help you.”

***

The woman, Keshi, as the Doctor found out, had been taking karate classes down the street at the nearest gym and was stronger than he initially gave her credit for. Matt, the tattoo man, was far less eager to spend more time in the basement, but also couldn’t quite seem to bring himself to leave.

They cleared off the debris and rubble first and then focused on the cement beam. It had fallen mostly on Rose’s lower legs and right thigh. The Doctor and Matt lifted the cement block from the bottom while Keshi held the torch and helped support the beam from up top. The two men mostly worked in silence while Keshi murmured “come on, almost there, just like that.” Even in the dim torch light, the Doctor could see that Matt’s grimy face was shining with sweat and exertion.

A sudden murmur of pain broke their momentum and the Doctor almost released his grip on the cement beam when he realized it had come from Rose. Keshi swung the torch light over and he could see Rose’s face contorting in pain. She murmured something indistinct and it took all of the Doctor’s willpower not to drop the cement block and rush over to her.

“ _Faster_ ,” he hissed to Matt, arms straining as he put all his weight into pushing it up and off Rose’s legs.

“I - hate - you - people,” grunted Matt.

But with a final groan and scramble, they managed to heave the beam up a few inches and then off Rose’s legs. It landed with a crash on the floor. Matt fell to his knees, breathing hard and scrubbing his hands over his face.

Rose cried out, a high-pitched noise of confusion and pain. Right away, the Doctor could see why. Her leg was obviously broken, the bone sticking up through her skin just below her knee. He swallowed hard and then willed himself to focus. Their first priority had to be getting Rose out of the building alive - after that, she would be in the hands of London’s best medics.

He turned to Keshi and said, “Talk to her - tell her, oh, I dunno, anything. Just keep her distracted.”

Keshi nodded and then hurried to Rose’s side, bending down so she was looking into Rose’s face. “Hi there, sweetheart,” she murmured. She pressed a hand to Rose’s forehead. “Listen, we’re working on getting you out of here, okay? But you’re going to have to be brave for a while longer.”

With what looked like a tremendous effort, Rose’s eyes fluttered open. Her eyes focused unsteadily on the woman. “What....” she began and then broke off, crying out. One of her hands instinctively reached out, stretching to her leg, but Keshi caught Rose’s hands in hers.

“You’ve just got to stay still for a while longer, yeah? We’re working on helping you.”

Keshi looked over at the Doctor as if to say ‘why aren’t you doing this’ but he steadily avoided her gaze. He had to keep his focus right now. If he bent down to comfort Rose, he might fall apart himself.

He turned to where Matt was still on his knees, wheezing heavily. “Give me your shirt,” hissed the Doctor.

“What...?”

“Shirt,” said the Doctor. “ _Now_.”

At the Doctor’s tone, Matt rushed to peel off his t-shirt. Underneath, his bare chest was dotted with a patchwork of tattoos similar to the one on his neck. Without a word, the Doctor grabbed the shirt and then bent over Rose’s broken leg. Hurriedly, he wrapped the shirt around her leg, tying the sleeves together. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it would at least stem some of the blood loss.

Rose cried out while Keshi murmured “shh” and “it’s okay, nearly there.” He felt chilled when he finished. How could he get Rose out of the building without causing her more pain? Even if he carried her, the pain would be intolerable.

As he finished with her leg, Rose lay back, panting and clutching at Keshi’s hands. The Doctor climbed over to her and Keshi pushed herself to her feet and out of the way. Taking Rose’s hands in his, the Doctor stared down into her face. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused. He touched her temple with his thumb, gently wiping the trickle of blood out of the way.

“Rose?” he said, “Rose, can you hear me?”

There was a long moment of silence before she answered, and when she did, her voice sounded hopeful, “Doctor?”

“Yeah,” he said, feeling a wave of relief. “It’s me.”

“But... what are you....” her voice rasped in and out, but she suddenly gripped his hands tightly. “The bomb went off you can’t be here, you can’t, you....”

“Shh, it’s okay, Rose, I’m okay.” He paused and then when he spoke, his voice was more urgent, “Listen, we have get out of the factory right now. And I’m sorry, Rose, I am so sorry, but we’re going to have to carry you.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and her voice trembled. “What’s wrong with me? It hurts... oh my god it hurts... Doctor...”

He dropped his forehead down close to hers and whispered, “I know, Rose, but you’re going to be okay. We’re going to get you out of here, but it’s.... it’s going to hurt. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” she whispered, but her voice sounded faint. The Doctor wasn’t certain if she’d even heard him at all.

He looked up helplessly and into the eyes of Keshi and Matt. “I’m not waiting any longer,” said Matt. “We go now.”

The Doctor nodded and then bent over Rose. But before he could lift her, there was the sound of approaching footsteps and then two torch lights flicked around the basement.

“There you are,” said a familiar female voice, “we’ve been looking all over for you. You really should check that walkie-talkie every once in a while.”

The Doctor blinked. It was Michelle and Daniel.

“What...” he began.

But Daniel waved his torch in the Doctor’s face and said, “Rose ordered us out to save us. We couldn’t very well abandon her now, could we? It’s not really the Torchwood team motto.”

The Doctor felt himself beginning to grin. “What about Pete?”

“So we’ll get a note in our file about insubordination. To be honest, in this case, I think he was quietly egging us on.” Michelle unhooked something from her back and then unfolded a long, white stretcher. “Now are we going to get Rose out of here or not?”

The Doctor’s grin widened. “I could kiss you.” He winked at Daniel. “Both of you.”

Rose whimpered in pain again, and immediately the Doctor’s grin fell away. She had her eyes screwed shut against the pain, and the Doctor gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “It’s all right, Rose,” he said softly, and beside him Michelle and Daniel set down the stretcher. He moved out of the way but kept hold of her hands as Michelle and Daniel lifted her and she cried out. “You’re all right,” he repeated. “We’ll take care of you.”

 _Finally_ , he didn’t add.

***

The sun beat down on the Doctor’s head as he, Michelle, and Daniel emerged from the collapsing building, carrying Rose on the stretcher. Keshi and Matt followed behind them.

The Doctor felt like he was walking in a daze. He held Rose’s hand and murmured softly to her even though her unfocused and confused gaze barely registered him. Torchwood agents were spread along the perimeter of the property, holding back curious onlookers and coughing into their hands and shirts. The air was still heavy with dust from the explosion and the Doctor’s eyes were beginning to water from the combination of smoke and soot.

Finally, they made it to the ambulance. Paramedics jumped out to attend to Keshi and Matt while Michelle and Daniel helped load Rose into the back of the ambulance. The Doctor’s head was beginning to pound, but he still shot Pete a baleful glare when the other man approached them.

Pete, all business, turned to the paramedic and murmured, “I want Rose to get the best care she can, is that understood?”

The paramedic nodded. “Of course, Mr Tyler.”

“I give that hospital a lot of money every year.”

The paramedic looked annoyed by the insinuation (and the Doctor, who had been on the receiving end of far too many of Pete’s orders in one night, found himself sympathizing with the man), but only said, “Understood, sir.”

The Doctor turned when Pete touched him on the arm. Pete looked so tired and worn out that the Doctor couldn’t quite find it in him to keep blaming him for what had happened to Rose.

No, Bob Charila deserved all the blame for that.

“We’ll do a full sweep of the building,” Pete said, seeming to read the question in the Doctor’s eyes before he said anything. “If Charila left behind any clues, we’ll find them.”

The Doctor inclined his head in a small gesture of gratitude. “Thank you,” said the Doctor, and he was surprised by how scratchy his voice sounded. “I want him found.”

“Believe me, Doctor, so do I.”

The Doctor nodded once and then he climbed into the back of the ambulance beside Rose, careful to avoid getting in the way of the paramedics. He took her hand as soon as he was seated, thumb sweeping over her knuckles as the sirens began to blare overhead.

***

When Rose came to, she found herself in a hospital bed.

It took a second or three of confused blinking to put the pieces together -- the various beeping noises that seemed to be coming from every direction, the unfamiliar bed, the IV tube sticking out of her arm. She barely had time to scrunch up her forehead in confusion when the Doctor’s face popped into her line of vision, a smile on his mouth but bags beneath his eyes that suggested he’d gone much too long without proper sleep.

“Hello,” he began. Something warm brushed her fingers, and it took her another few seconds to realize it was the Doctor’s hand.

Rose stared at him, her forehead still scrunched up, feeling like she was several seconds out of the loop. “Hi.” She hesitated, looking down at their hands, and then her eyes widened, staring at the big white thing wrapped around her leg. “My leg is broken,” she announced, staring at it, perplexed. “I’m in the hospital. What...”

“There was a second bomb,” the Doctor explained, his voice tight. “On one of the top floors. Half the building collapsed. You...” He swallowed, and she could see that he was trying to make light of what had horrified him. “You got caught beneath a wall.”

The memory all clicked at once--the bomb and the people and the few seconds of pure joy when she realized she wasn’t going to die, followed by the boom from above, the room being bathed in darkness and then... She couldn’t remember anything beyond that. Her eyes widened. “The people I was with. Were they--”

“They’re fine,” the Doctor said at once. “They’re safe.” He squeezed her hand gently. “You did it.”

He sounded proud, and though he smiled as he said it, Rose could read the worry in his eyes. It must have been horrible for him, standing outside and watching the building collapse. She gripped his hand a little tighter and tried for a reassuring smile. “Good,” she said. “That’s... good.”

“Yeah.” The Doctor’s smile softened, giving way to more concern. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, you know,” she said lightly. “My best.” She paused. “How’s my hair?”

She was heartened by the spark of amusement in his eyes and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before murmuring, “It looks lovely.”

 _Liar_ , she thought, but still felt something inside of her go all soft and warm at the compliment. She took a breath and in a softer voice said, “Are you okay?”

His eyebrows jumped slightly, but he only said, “Fine, I’m.... I’m fine.”

It was the answer she was expecting, but Rose still felt her heart sink. She could tell from looking at him that he was very much _not_ fine. His jacket was covered in dust, his hair was almost grey from ash, and his eyes looked old and tired. Even pumped full of pain medications, she felt every limitation of her broken leg. When he got like this before, she had been there to hold him or push him into a shower or make him eat. Now, though.... now she could only watch him hopelessly from a hospital bed.

“Handled myself pretty well out there, yeah?” she said, trying for levity.

But it fell flat. The Doctor didn’t smile at her. “Yeah,” he only said, but she could read the guilt and self-blame all over his face.

Again, she wished desperately that she could get up and put her arms around him. Instead she said, “I guess we’ll be watching a lot of telly over the next few weeks, won’t we? Bet Mum will love having us around.”

That earned her the ghost of a smile. “Some downtime would be nice,” he said. He paused. “Rose, why did you.... if this was about trying prove yourself to me, there are better ways of—”

Rose cut him off with a gentle squeeze to his hand. “Maybe it was at first. But I... I couldn’t leave them, Doctor, I just couldn’t.” She swallowed. “What would you have done?”

He bowed his head. “I should have been there with you.”

He sounded so sad that Rose almost opened her mouth to agree with him. When he looked like that, she wanted to do anything to make him feel better.

“You can’t always be there, though,” she said. “Sometimes it’s just gonna be me on my own and you’ve got to trust that I can handle myself, yeah?”

“I _do_ ,” he said, now sounding frustrated. “But if I lost you.....”

He trailed off like even saying the thought aloud was too painful. Rose squeezed his hand again, a lump gathering in her throat. What could she say? She couldn’t promise him that she would always keep out of danger or wait for him to be by her side. That wasn’t how they lived their life—it wasn’t how either of them _wanted_ to live their life.

After a moment, the Doctor changed the subject. “I owe a certain Bob Charila a conversation, hmm?”

Though his tone was light, Rose could hear the barely suppressed anger in his voice. “We’ll find him,” she said. “I don’t suppose Torchwood found anything useful in the building, did they?”

The Doctor hesitated, glancing down at her broken leg like it somehow made her stupid and fragile as well as immobile. Rose caught his eyes and frowned at him, and he hastily said, “It was a test - or, I dunno, an experiment. He _wanted_ us in that building, Rose. He wanted to see what would happen.” He paused. “There were cameras - tiny, hidden cameras on every floor.”

“He was watching us that whole time.” Rose felt a shiver of fear. “Why would someone do that?”

The Doctor scrubbed at his face. “I don’t know,” he said, sounding completely exhausted. “I just... I don’t know. If it was because of me that you....”

“Hey!” Rose said. “We don’t know that for sure. I’ve been on this world longer than you have, remember? For all we know, it could be some sort of deranged stalker following _me_.”

The Doctor didn’t respond to that. “Pete’s trying to trace the video link on the cameras now, but I think our chances of finding him are low. Everything he’s done has been calculated. Untraceable.”

Rose chewed on her bottom lip, pondering this bit of information. “Do you reckon it has anything to do with what happened to Mum and Tony a few months back?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Could be.”

“I’ll talk to Dad, maybe he can run some scans....” Rose trailed off when the Doctor only stared at her with a look that was glassy and unfocused. It couldn’t be a good sign when the person with the broken leg was sounding more coherent. She grabbed his hands again and said, “Listen, Doctor, I’m going to be out of here soon and then we’ll track him down, yeah? No one messes with us and gets away with it.”

“No one hurts you and gets away with it,” he murmured, but his threatening declaration was somewhat ruined when he gave a loud yawn.

Rose tried hard to keep a straight face. “Come on,” she said, tugging on his hands and nodding to the spot next to her. She tried to scoot over on the hospital bed, discovered that it was very hard to move with a broken leg, and then decided the Doctor would just have to make due. He _was_ pretty skinny.

The Doctor watched her with a half-smile. “Rose, do you know how small this bed is? Small enough to fit in the cupboard of our old flat, that’s how small. I’m not even sure it would hold the weight of two -”

Rose tugged on his hands again. “Come on, you’re not even making sense anymore.” She met his gaze, widening her eyes in a look he had never turned down before. “Just for a bit?”

She saw the exact moment that he gave in. Some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders and he nodded before slowly climbing in next to her - like the slightest bounce or touch might break her. Well, Rose reckoned with a wince when the bed jostled from the extra weight, she _did_ have a broken leg.

He finally settled down on his side, next to her good leg. Rose tried to shift over to look at him - and failed. She settled for staring at the ceiling, managing to get a little bit of his chin and stubble in her line of vision.

“Next stop is the shower for you, mister,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Honestly, I have half a mind to call Mum on you -”

His fingers stroked her cheek and Rose cut off abruptly, stilling at his touch. A second later, he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. She kissed him back eagerly, arms wrapping around the back of his neck.

He pulled away, panting lightly. “Did I,” he began, “tell you the part where I’m so glad that you’re going to be all right?”

“No,” Rose said, blinking back tears. She nudged him gently on the back of his neck, summoning up a smile. She was too injured for anything more and the bed was far too cramped, but the kissing was nice. Very nice. “But you could show me again?”

His face broke out into a grin. “Okay,” he said and leaned down and kissed her again.


End file.
